


And He Wrote His First Refrain

by Twackycat



Series: The Other Fifty-One [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Covers Alex's shitty childhood, Gen, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of Suicide, Reincarnation, The Other 51 Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 18:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twackycat/pseuds/Twackycat
Summary: Alex Hanson is a Reincarnate, and it sucks. He writes about it and gets put on a ship for it.





	And He Wrote His First Refrain

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in my attempt at The Other Fifty-One Challenge, and my first It's also the first in The World Turned Upside Down series.

_I am a Reincarnate. I may not have been anyone of any importance in my past life, but to many that doesn’t matter. I am a Reincarnate, and that means that I have been blessed, that I have a second chance. But a second chance to do what? Make better decisions? To live longer? Or maybe to simply take a different path than before, it doesn’t really matter though. People will call me blessed because I am a Reincarnate. But everyone must be playing a cruel trick on me, because I’m not blessed. People also say history repeats itself, and that cuts too close to the truth._

_The first time I remembered something was when I asked my mother where my father was. She kindly sat me down and explained that it was just the two of us, my father abandoned us before I was born, and suddenly I was being bombarded with memories of watching my father from my first life walking out the door to never be seen again. It was then that I was introduced to the idea of being a Reincarnate, and my mother said I was blessed. When I asked why I didn’t remember my mother from my first life, she told me it was because I would get to know her when I met her in this life. But I remember my first mother now, and I haven’t met her. My mother died. My mother died with her arms around me as she was consumed by sickness that we couldn’t afford the medicine to conquer. And when I woke up, my mind still fevered, and I realized that she had died, the memories came rushing back. History had repeated itself again. My mother died with me in her arms a second time._

_History repeats itself over and over again with my lives running parallel to each other. I watched the cousin I was sent to live with commit suicide for a second time, the first time hanging himself, this time shooting himself in the head. His body flashing between being crumpled on the floor and dangling from the tree. At eight I was left with nothing but ruined pride and a flashes of war triggered by the sound of my cousin’s gun. Some nights I wish I didn’t have to wake up in a cold sweat, a cry on my lips as I relive bullets tearing through my flesh. I grasp at nonexistent wounds, looking down expecting there to be blood and see nothing as the phantom pain fades away._

_I was slowly beginning to live with little bits of interrupted bits of sleep every night when a hurricane stuck my town, and I realized that once again I had defied the odds. I survived and most of my town didn’t. I can look down the streets and not be able to tell when I am, unable to tell the destruction from my first life apart from now._

_I am a Reincarnate, so I must be blessed. But I’m also a nine year old who knows what a gunshot feels like and has PTSD because I heard a gun once. I remember things that no one should have to experience, let alone a second time. There is nothing blessed about coming back and having history repeat itself almost exactly. Everything has been out of my control, I haven’t had a chance to make better decisions. There is nothing pointing towards me living longer than before, and nothing has changed, there is no other path for me to find. I know other people will only see me as a Reincarnate, but I’m more than some old dead guy. I am Alex Hanson, and it doesn’t matter that I am a Reincarnate._

Alex honestly hated the essay that had been picked up and passed around what was left of his community once the rescue services had arrived. It was a release of pent up emotions that was scribbled down in twenty minutes on a scrap of paper he’d found. It revealed a part of him that only his mother had known about, and he’d wanted to keep it that way. Nobody ever saw Reincarnates as who they were in this life, everyone always focused on who they were in their past life. It wasn’t like they were an exact copy of their previous lives, they would just get the memories triggered by events and people. Alex Hanson didn’t know who Alexander Hamilton was, and frankly he didn’t really care, he wanted to be a new man.

The thing about the essay that bugged Alex the most was that it was nothing compared to what he could really do, given a bit more time and a lot more paper. Alex hadn’t even really had time to make an edits to it. In fact he was planning on destroying until it was snatched from his hands by the only other person close to his age, the boy who had always been his tormentor. The sound of their fight gained the attention of the adults, demanding to know what the squabble was over. The paper was relinquished to them and his words quickly spread.

At the same time though Alex couldn’t truly despise the thing because, despite not being a true show of his abilities, it impressed enough of the right people that he was now on a boat to the United States of America. Not only did he get passage to New York, he was getting a full ride to a private prep school. Alex was finally going to be going places. Occasionally he was confused by flashes of an old time ship, powered by the wind in its sails, and Alex knew this wasn’t the first time he was making the journey to New York.

Thinking about it too much just made Alex want to scream, he didn’t want to know that this was just a repeat of his past life. Although he knew something were going to be different. He had a gut feeling that he was younger, and this time he had someone waiting for him.  That was the part Alex was looking forward to the most; the foster family that would be waiting for him when he arrived.

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he looked down at the slightly crumpled piece of paper in his hands. His eyes hungerly took in the words once again, explaining what would be happening as soon as he got off the boat. He’d already committed the entire thing to memory, but his eyes were continually drawn back to the name at the bottom of the page. It was his foster father’s name: Chuck Leroy. 


End file.
